In the kitchen
by Amphy
Summary: Rei is Sachiko's cooking teacher. Because they spend so much time together, they get to know each other much better.


Disclaimer: I don't own Maria-sama ga Miteru.

**I.**

She's teaching me how to cook.

More precisely, this is the fifth time she's teaching me how to cook. This is the fifth time she's showing a patience that is truly beyond one from a normal human being. It's not that I'm bad at cooking, not at all; the kitchen utensils simply do not wish to act as I want them to.

"It's very important to cut the salmon in pieces at least as big as these. If you cut them smaller, they will fall apart and the soup will not look so appetizing anymore."

Today I'm being taught how to make miso-based dishes. But I learn far more than only things related to cooking; I have also learned that she will never stop surprising me, especially with her knowledge of the world of ingredients and cooking. Does it really take almost a year for miso to be ready for use?

"You can put in more vegetables to get a richer taste, but for now, let's only put in carrots, potatoes, onions and daikon."

But it's not only because of her knowledge that she keeps surprising me. I don't know how she does it, but she deals with me with a seemingly effortless ease-- if I had to describe how she acts around me, I would say she is a perfectly balanced mixture of Onee-sama and Yumi. Sometimes she has a slightly mischievous glint in her eyes when she is about to teach me something new, sometimes that is replaced by one of admiration when I finally succeed in doing something the right way, but there's always a caring and gentle look in her eyes, which is typical for both of my soeurs.

"Don't forget to remove the dashi when the vegetables are cooking. Then add the miso and mix it very well."

She handles the kitchen tools with a grace that far exceeds mine on any other occasion. It is quite mesmerizing to see her move from one pot to another, checking if everything goes the way it should. I pointed that out on her one day, and she laughed at me and said that she was quite flattered, being called graceful by the most gracious and ladylike person she had ever known, and would ever meet.

"We can simply use most of the same ingredients again, but before we begin, we have to slice the frozen meat in thin pieces."

We have finished the first dish, Sanbei-jiru, a miso soup eaten in winter, and have now moved on to preparing the second one, Ishikari nabe, which is a hot pot based on a mixture of miso, vegetables and salmon. The meat we are slicing is for the hot pot, which will roll up in a typical way if we slice it like this. It seems that everything she tells me, I remember instantly. If only I could also handle the kitchen tools from the first time-- it would save me from a lot of frustration, seeing as I'm not really used to failing so miserably in something, and it would save her from seeing my frustration, but she says she doesn't mind at all; it only proves that I'm human too. But, of course, on those occasions when it simply doesn't work, she can't help but tease me before helping me out. Yet I don't mind when she teases me.

"Just put everything on a plate so your kitchen is kept well-organized. That way, it's easy to put in the right ingredients at the right moment."

She has proven to be such a great person, and not only because she has the patience to teach me an art I do not have the talent for. I can hardly believe it took these cooking lessons for me to figure out that she really is a wonderful person; feminine, gracious, tolerant, and kind. It was quite a challenge to find something I could give her so she would understand how grateful I am that she's willing to spend her precious days teaching me how to cook.

"Let's clean up this mess and take a break before we move on to the next dish."

"Rei?"

"Hmm?"

"Let me go get something first. I'll be right back."

**II****.**

I'm teaching her how to cook.

More precisely, this is the fifth time I'm teaching her how to cook. This is the fifth time she's coming over to my house to hear me explain the basic details of cooking and watch me prepare a few dishes in demonstration.

"But I can't cut the salmon in pieces which are too big, because they won't be cooked properly then, right?"

Today I'm teaching her how to make miso-based dishes. It's really amusing how things turned out like this; I could've never imagined that she would ask me to teach her how to cook. Yet it was plain to see that she actually did need a bit of guidance; the first time I saw her grabbing for that kitchen knife, I had to keep myself from running out of the building.

"Let me cut the daikon into smaller pieces first."

To be honest, I had no idea how these lessons would happen since she isn't always the most easy-going person around, but it was a pleasant surprise to see how easy and comfortable our communication went – and how natural it felt. I had always thought that she could only be so relaxed around Youko-sama or Yumi-chan, but I'm glad she has decided to also let her guard down when we are together.

"Is it normal for the carrots to look so brown?"

It's not a real surprise, but she looks so elegant when she cooks. I remember the time I had to laugh out loud when she, of all persons, told me that I looked so graceful while cooking. Her mouth curled up in a smile when I replied I was flattered hearing that from her, and my first thought on seeing that amused face was that we had never been more at ease.

"This does seem more difficult to prepare. Is this amount of salmon enough for the second dish?"

We have moved on to the next dish. Again, not a surprise, but she remembers everything I tell her from the first time. I have noticed that whatever people might tell her, how unimportant it may be, she remembers it instantly. And with that in mind, I see her struggling to cut through the frozen meat. She is far from adept with the knife, but I don't really care, because I know she always gives her all and tries her very best to do everything the right way. But sometimes I can't help but tease her when she shows a total inability for cooking, like that time we made Japanese desserts. We were both exhausted and she was seriously frustrated, and before I knew it, I had made a silly comment on that. But I don't think she minded.

"I see. So you always have to put in the onions first."

She really is an admirable person, and not only because of her wealth and beauty. She respects people for what they are, she's hard-working, tough as ice yet soft as snow, and once she finally opens up to you, you can see the warm-hearted person she truly is. I'm glad she has asked me to teach her how to cook, because I enjoy spending time with her like this immensely.

"Let me go get something first. I'll be right back."

"Okay, but don't think I'll clean up everything while you're gone."

She smiles and leaves the kitchen. It feels so good to be able to interact with her in such a natural way.

I have only started washing the first plates when I feel a soft tap on my shoulder. I turn around and find myself face to face with her, and in her hand she's holding a box with a blue ribbon wrapped around it.

"Sachiko?"

"I didn't know how I could show you my gratitude for everything you've done for me so far, but the best way seemed this."

She hands me the box and in her eyes I can read that she's a bit nervous-- what would she have to be nervous about?

"After all, this is what it's all about."

I give her one last curious look before I remove the ribbon and open the box. In it I can see several servings of Yokan, a very traditional Japanese sweet and one we had tried to make on a previous lesson.

"The taste is not quite the same as the one you made, but at least it looks like a real dessert, and it's all thanks to you. A few weeks ago, I could've never imagined being able to make something like this, but thanks to your patience and skills, I succeeded in making this. I... I just wanted you to know how grateful I am for that."

I'm speechless. I remember the look on her face when I explained her how to make Yokan, and even though she rarely shows emotions, I could sense a hint of despair in her at that time. So what am I to say when she gives me something in which she has obviously put a lot of work and effort?

"Sachiko… I can't believe you really made this, thank you so very much. Did you know this is my favourite dessert?"

She smiles but shakes her head. Yet I have the feeling that I might have mentioned that to her once, a long time ago.

"I'm glad you like it."

"It really looks delicious. Let's have a piece of this dessert before cleaning up the kitchen, alright?"

She nods her head in agreement, still smiling, and I get the privilege of taking the first bite. It tastes wonderful.

* * *

A/N:

Miso is miso.

Daikon is a huge white radish.

Dashi is a cooking stock that's a must-have in Japanese cooking. Apparently, without it, Japanese cooking just doesn't taste so Japanese anymore, lol.

For the souls who also read my ongoing story: I'm sorry, but I'm having a writer's block!


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